


Meet Me Again

by Cillo89



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cillo89/pseuds/Cillo89
Summary: Loneliness is a heart disease which only yours can cure.
Relationships: Mercedes/Zeph (Octopath Traveler)
Kudos: 3





	Meet Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> Important note: I don't know whether I'll ever finish this fic or no. I'm sorry for those who might want to see what happens next, but I simply don't know. Yet I felt bad hoarding it in my folders, so now it's out here!

Alfyn shrugged abashedly once more. He couldn’t get used to the yelling, he never did and never would, and he at least wished Zeph were more considerate with his choice of words. He knew Zeph wanted the best for him. He knew Zeph was worried, but that clearly didn’t stop him from being harsh.

“Alf? Got something to say for yourself?”

He shrugged again. 

“You’re driving me nuts. It’s ridiculous, pitiful, almost. You can’t just go to a different bar each night and hope I won’t smell the alcohol off of you.”

“List-”

“I’m not listening to your drunken rambling again. I’m done giving you second chances. I try to make it better, you realize that, right? And each time you betray my trust and do this shit. Alf, I care about you, and this pains me to have to repeat it to you when I gotta scream your ears out.”

After his speech, Zeph pants for a bit, and slaps a hand across his face, and Alfyn feels worse. He hadn’t thought it possible. Worst thing is, he didn’t have anything to say. No justification. No reasoning. He had wanted to get trashed, so he got trashed.

Zeph wanted answers Alfyn simply couldn’t give.

His head hurt, but it may have been from the crying, rather than the alcohol. Yeah, he had cried a bit. And then what? Nothing Zeph was unaware about.

Coming back home had been a mistake, he thought. Zeph always scolded him. Zeph always knew better. Zeph was his best friend, but he also was the biggest jerk he had encountered tonight. He took his scarf back and breathed it in deeply, before throwing it over his shoulder, aiming for the doorknob.

“Where do you think you’re gonna go, now?”

Zeph threw himself on the door, and held it shut, facing Alfyn with determination. He shakes his head. His eyes were furious, Alfyn noticed it through his blurry vision, and he had his arms extended menacingly. Was he going to punch him? Would he really trespass that last barrier in their relationship? Smash that last fragment of their friendship? Would he hit him?

“You’re not leaving”, Zeph reassesses. “_I_ am going away. Good luck, Alfyn. I’m taking my stuff tomorrow, and I’m going to Mercedes’.”

Alfyn did want to protest, but something churned inside him, a flame which he didn’t want to lose, and so he kept quiet. Zeph pushed him aside, with relative softness, and grabbed his pair of keys. His phone in hand and his jacket quickly on, he threw his friend a last glance, before tsking.

The door was closed, and Alfyn glared at it for a while. His eyes felt watery still, although he had cried his heart out already, for something Zeph would never understand. And now he cried for him. Or rather, he didn’t know what he cried for. But his life was miserable enough to cry without a clear cut reason.

He threw his scarf on the ground, removed his clothes as properly as he could, not even bothering to smash them on the ground negligently. He was so tired. He was so full of something, a feeling he couldn’t make out through the alcohol’s burn and the emptiness in his heart, but there was something lodged in his mind, a thought he could not make go away.

He disliked hating others. He disliked resenting others. But fuck, he sure as hell didn’t want to come close to Ogen again, not after today, not after this semester, not after this mess of a year.

He wanted peace, for once. He didn’t want to work. He didn’t want to study. He wanted the tranquility of his home, the comfort of his friend’s embrace, and the serene state of mind that tomorrow was another day, a day he would excel in.

Well.

At least he was home.

That’s all he had, really.

He hears his phone vibrating in his pocket, and the light of the screen dazzles him. He recognizes one thing, though, and it’s the melody playing. Mercedes. Her ring tune.

Why would she call him?

He wasn’t in the mood to answer. He wasn’t in the mood for anything. He wanted to shrink and shrink until nothing was left of him but the memory of his failures.

He hated the growing detestation in his chest.

* * *

The next morning brought no joy with it. The sun peered through the only window of the apartment in a gloomy manner. The clothes scattered on the ground stank, Alfyn himself stank, and he couldn’t believe today truly was another day to live through.

He kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling. He didn’t want to see Zeph’s empty bed. He didn’t want to see the lack of presence, the lack of humanity in their small flat. They shared it, like they had shared everything in their lives, but it seemed something was coming to an end. Their sharing. Their friendship perhaps.

Alfyn manages to sit up, and faces the empty bed with growing anxiety. Next to their beds were books and clothes, dumped there thoughtlessly. Zeph’s handwriting could be seen on many sheets lost in their mess. He had been working on his thesis, as assiduously as the situation allowed him to.

Alfyn’s side is clearer of books and worksheets. Clothes, mainly. Some bottles of various liquids, as well as dubious trash.

Ugh. He had to clean up. He had to eat. He had to drink. He had to take a piss. That was going to be one of those days, definitely. The days where he busies himself with tasks to make sure he forgets what he had told Zeph. Or what he had done. Or what he had thought himself.

Time to get to work. Mercedes told him in a text she’d pass by.

He collected the clothes on the ground, both his and his best friend’s, and put them in an empty laundry basket he found under his bed. The basket was then forgotten on top of the bed, for he needed to make the place presentable first. So he worked. So he cleaned. So he forgot.

Only when the sound of the door opening reached his ears did he truly stop and look up. He had wiped the table, changed the bedsheets, cleared the floor of the dump, had done a pretty good job at making the place smell better. Still in his boxers though, he glared at Mercedes unashamed. They had met in worse conditions before. This was nothing he and she couldn’t handle.

“Hi, Alf.”

“Hey.” He waves at her with a surprised face. Zeph hadn’t dared come, this time around? This was a first. Zeph was honest, Zeph was genuine. He’d always show up before.

“I’m here to pick Zeph’s things up.” She states almost timidly.

“Why didn’t he come himself?”

“Oh, he’s here. Downstairs. With the car.”

“You took your car?”

She nodded cautiously, and remained stuck in the doorframe. Alfyn sighed and signed for her to come in, which she didn’t, or rather, she took a step forward, and then kept her hands clasped, waiting.

He was going to get an ass-whooping he, for sure, deserved, but didn’t want at all. His heart beat like crazy at the thought of Zeph coming in.

He played it cool, though. Swiping the floor, reorganizing their kitchenette, dusting the framed photos on the wall next to the only desk they had.

“So, how’s medical school going?” Mercedes perks up suddenly. Her tone is nice, friendly even. She isn’t a bad gal. She’s someone Zeph deserves. Someone Alfyn never compared to.

“Great.” Had his voice always been this raspy? “I mean, fine. Drowning under work, otherwise, fine.”

“I figured. I heard you had theses to write. What’s yours about?”

“Uhm, I haven’t chosen the topic yet.”

She mouthed an “o” and kept quiet. He would have laughed heartily at her face in any other circumstance. He knew he was late in everything regarding school, be it either homework, or classes. He’d fail, he’d fail, he’d fail… and then his parents’ money would have gone to waste, and he’d end up on the streets.

Actually, that wasn’t the worst case scenario he had imagined. The worst one always included him dragging Zeph down with him.

“Put some clothes on.”

Zeph’s voice froze him right on the spot. He truly was there. Of course, why would have Mercedes lied about that?

Alfyn doesn’t look up and keeps brushing the framed photos delicately. The few photos Alfyn had were so dear to his heart, there wasn’t a day where he didn’t look at them once. He liked their simplicity, and the bonds they showed. The one between him and Zeph, for instance.

“Alfyn, listen, I… I’m leaving. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t. I mean I’m leaving definitely. I’m not coming back.”

Alfyn’s back straightens, suddenly run over by shivers. What?

“Sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Alf, I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. It’s just not something I can live with forever. You, coming back each night half-drunk, half-high. You, leaving in the middle of the night for Dohter knows where, me worrying for your ass, and you ignoring all of my complaints and requests. I can’t. Not anymore. So I’m leaving.”

Alfyn still couldn’t face him. He showed him his naked back and his unruly hair. He trembled.

“Forever…?” His voice cracked.

“For as long as you keep this going. Your affairs, your weird stories. I can’t work in these conditions.”

“But if you leave, how will we pay for...”

“Your problem, now. You should have seen this coming. You should have thought things through. You should have talked to me when I gave you the chance to, which I did, so many times, and you didn’t say anything. Now, it’s too late.”

The finality in his tone gave him the chills. He couldn’t pay for the flat alone. They could hardly sustain themselves with their money combined. He wasn’t one to care for money, sure, but he had also realized early on how much he hated being hungry. You never get used to the feeling. It hurts, and you feel miserable.

At least Zeph won’t be hungry again. Mercedes could help him. Like she had always done. Like  _he_ had never done.

He sensed the worry and the guilt in Zeph’s voice. He didn’t quite understand them though: he was right. What would Zeph want to do with a loser like him?

Perhaps it was better to just accept his friend’s decision. And, deep down, Alfyn knew he could improve. He knew he could do… slightly better. Zeph didn’t wish him any harm. He wanted to teach him a lesson, that much, Alfyn realized. But how far would he go? And to what extent would he have to make efforts to bring him back?

Why would he even want him back? He’s loved Mercedes since they were kids. It was only a matter of time until they moved in together, but Alfyn always thought he’d be the one to leave and give them their space. Not the other way around.

He could do better. His first mission would be to get rid of Ogen.

And then, Zeph will be back.

* * *

“You’ve done a fine job”, Z’aanta told her. “You never fail to impress me.”

“Thank you.”

H’aanit liked Mr. Z’aanta’s compliments. They were always truthful and sincere, and his old, wrinkly smile transmitted his happiness wholly. That’s how she found herself smiling as well, just a bit.

But what he had said was right. She had done quite the work. She had cleaned the whole apartment, fixed some parts of the garden and took care of his future appointments. Mr. Z’aanta’s vision wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. It pained her a bit to know his independence had been thrown out the window by age. She remembered the stories he had told her as a child, of the times were he used to be a fine sharpshooter. The best at the game of darts.

He had explained her that sight was important, for it had always improved his sense of vision. And Mr. Z’aanta was quite the visionary. He was the kindest person she had ever met, he was full of compassion for other beings. He had instilled his love for nature and life into her.

She had always wanted to repay him somehow. She didn’t know how, though. As a child, she had nothing to give, and only needed to receive, be it knowledge, or safety, or comfort. And all that, he had provided. She learned the local language thanks to him, she saw his home as some sort of haven and she had poured tears more than once onto his shoulders. He gave her everything, so now that he’s come into his old age, she was repaying him. Finally.

“You’re free to go, now, though. You know I don’t have the right to take up your whole time. You must have friends to meet with?”

That, however, was one of the things she couldn’t stand in him. She rarely met with anyone outside of work. Okay, she had some contacts, human interaction, but they weren’t friendships.

She wouldn’t admit that to him.

“I have to attend Mr. Albright’s course today too, so I will go indeed.”

“Mr. Albright is a fine, young man! I hope you’re not being too cold with your teacher.”

“I’m not a cold individual.”

Mr. Z’aanta laughed heartily, and patted her back warmly. “Of course you aren’t, dear. Now, head off. Never be late for work!”

She hid her blushing cheeks, and took her coat hanging near the front door. She threw the apartment one last glance, and glared at Mr. Z’aanta, who was waving her off. She closed the door, and sighed.

Going to Mr. Albright’s course was not a short walk. Mr. Z’aanta and she lived away from the main parts of the city, on the outskirts, one could say, simply because living here was cheaper. Mr. Z’aanta had welcomed her into his home as a girl, and once she reached majority, she rented her own place, and although it still belonged to Mr. Z’aanta, she liked the feeling of independence.

She had worked a lot to be able to afford it, and she was proud of herself, as much as a woman in her late twenties could be.

Mr. Albright’s course was a delight to attend, too. His teaching was clear enough that she could understand it, and that was sufficient for her, although he had the tendency to talk about futile things between two important matters. The course was free, offered by the Ravus industry. The Ravus family, led by Ms. Cordelia, was the main instigator of the charities in the city. Ms. Cordelia wanted to share her fortune with the neediest and had hired teachers to help people like H’aanit fit in. She had also created the famous  _Dohter’s Charity_ , the organization which provided free food for the inhabitants of Saintsbridge and Atlasdam.

Cordelia Ravus was to be thanked for many of her actions. Mr. Albright had said he was a friend of hers, and liked to remind his “precious students” that knowledge should be shared for free, and that is why he was so adamant on not receiving any kind of gifts, although some of H’aanit’s classmates had tried to pay him in some way.

H’aanit aspired to be as charitable as these people. Z’aanta, Albright, Ravus… She was glad she had met them, directly or not.

The sky was darkening at 7pm, this is what winter is about. She closed her coat and fastened her pace. There was no good being alone at night in this city. She had heard of gangs wandering the streets once the sun had set, looming behind their prey, and then attacking. She was relatively aware of the underground services that existed, because Mr. Z’aanta had taken a liking to scare the rascals off, not without interrogating them first.

The city had always been dangerous, and although she had grown used to it, a weird feeling was giving her shivers, as if the wind had pierced her coat and hugged her at the most inappropriate places. She wasn’t afraid per se, she knew she had the strength to fight off any criminal coming her way, but if a trap was set up… then she’d be a goner.

She focused her gaze forwards, her determination shines like a menacing aura around her. Messing with her meant business. She would fight back.

She tensed at each sound echoing behind her though, straightened her coat every time she heard the ruffle of silhouettes in the dark.

She sped up. Not largely, but enough to soothe her worries. The streets were empty, and aside from the strong winds and the echo of her steps, weird noises reached her ears. But it’s just the stress. She’s making things up. She gripped her phone dearly in her pocket, toying with the little kitty keychain tied to it.

The street was tightening around her, the next junction seemed so far, and everything was closing around her, and she felt overwhelmed. The city life wasn’t for her, oh no, it wasn’t. There was no escape, no detour she could make. The best shortcut she had was running. But running meant being noticed more.

And she didn’t want anyone to notice her like that.

Soon, though, she was overcome by the tremors of her fear, and she ran, ran, ran until her breath was so short that her head felt dizzy, ran, ran, ran like the ground was collapsing under her feet. And she ran, ran, ran until lights and people she couldn’t see.

  
  


  
  


  
  


When she opened her eyes, truly understanding where she was, she gasped loudly. The red light district, the one she had only heard of thanks to Mr. Z’aanta. A heaven of debauchery, in its core, the boulevard of prostitution, the Obsidian street, where the parlor stood proudly, boasting its riches and might. She knew that its influence extended at least to the surrounding cities.

It meant she had run in the wrong direction. Taking her phone out, and understanding it had also run out of battery, she sighed. She couldn’t look up the way back.

She had to ask someone.

Walking as equanimous as she could, she made her way towards a bar that didn’t look downright dubious.  _Aeber’s Thirst_ , plastered grandly above the entrance, glowing in red and orange lights. The sun had been gone for a while, and the streetlights combined to the complexity of the lit banners, dazzled her. She felt a headache coming just looking at them.

But she entered nonetheless, kicking a plastic bag out of her way. The bar was not crowded yet, and the reason was that the sluts were still out hunting, the consumers were still out hunting, and only drunkards sat before the barman, asking for drinks after drinks, which will fill them and leave them empty-headed, but fully satisfied.

Most were isolating themselves from the others. She saw a young man, unkempt blond hair, tied miserably in what could have looked like a low ponytail, drinking his tears away. Another one, a younger lad, even, mumbling to himself as he counted the few coins he had in hand. He couldn’t afford another drink.

Her entrance didn’t faze them. They were too lost in their glasses, and she was thankful to whichever god allowed her to remain unnoticed. She didn’t want to deal with them.

Only the barman approached, a quiet guy, who greeted her politely.

“What can I get you, lady?” he asked then, crossing his arms over the counter.

“I’ve got lost. I’d like it if you could indicate me how to reach that street…”

She explained her situation, quite sincerely, and glared at him expectantly once she was done. He seemed to think things over for some time, which didn’t put her at ease, at all, and she eyed his every move with suspicion. He was awkward, fidgeting a bit, and blushing at her sight, which had her fear his next words.

“That’s on the other side of the city”, he said. “I can draw you a plan, sort of.”

She thanked him, and waited for him to fetch a piece of paper and pen. He scribbled down on it, then turned the sheet around, and began to work with his hand. He turned the sheet to her and drew the lines he could remember, and he kept glaring at her warily, almost, taking in her presence and cold face.

“You can use the subway, the 2nd line reaches as far as the city library, and it’s not that far from your university, right? You’ve gotta walk a bit, but I guess you know the way after that.”

“Where’s the nearest station?”

“Down the street, you can’t miss it. If you don’t wanna venture through there, then you’d have to work your way through the little alleyways to reach the industry center and take the subway here.”

“I will not go that far. Thanks for your help.”

She turned around, but froze instantly as a hand was lowered on her shoulder. The barman spoke up, and she relaxed:

“Take the paper with you. Just in case.”

She took it from his hand and thanked him in a mumble. He remained unmoving, then. She didn’t throw the room any spare glance as she exited, jogging in the direction she had been indicated. She didn’t want to take the lights in, to consider the places she passed by, and the few people she met received no acknowledgment. She wanted out.

Luckily, business had not yet begun.

Once she reached the stairs down to the subway, she froze before the darkness downwards. Her sharp eyes perceived nothing and no one, and it was more a good side than a bad one. But her unfounded fear still lingered in her thoughts.

What a stupid thing to be afraid of. The dark.

She breathed deeply, once, and felt something akin to electricity run in her fingers, as she held onto the safety bar, taking a step forward. The echo of her step was deafening. She had to go on. She was adventurous, she was not easily tamed down. Whatever would come at her, she’d stop it before any damage would be done to her. She knew how to disarm a man and with a bit of luck and guessing, she’d make it out of that place in one piece.

She ran down the stairs, following the few indications she could find plastered on the walls, and when she made it inside the train, she sighed and closed her eyes.


End file.
